


Joined In Blood

by Sylva_Dax



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Post DS9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylva_Dax/pseuds/Sylva_Dax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once the aging Worf reconciled himself to a male Dax, he and Alexander used their influence with Starfleet to have Sevren Dax reassigned as Federation liaison to the Empire. Once his duty with Starfleet was over, Worf made Dax captain of the Lightbearer, formerly the Defiant. Having no obligations left in the Federation, Barlow decided to stay with his friend Dax in the Klingon Empire. He stood beside Sevren Dax as Dax once again entered the House of Martok by marrying J'hler. He delivered Dax and J'hler's daughter, Sylva, the first Klingon/Trill hybrid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Reality

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this story when I belonged to a Klingon gaming fleet almost ten years ago. I, of course, do not own any recognizable characters from the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine series and novels. All other characters are my own creation, many based on the avatars of my former fleet comrades, including my own: Sylva Dax. Reviews are most welcome.

 

* * *

"Major," Commander H'ok struck his right fist to his chest, saluting one of the Klingon Empire's best battle masters, Major Avenger of the House of Montroq and captain of the Vengeance, as he and his chief of security materialized on the transporter platform of the Lightbearer. "Colonel Anathema and Major Ice Dragon are waiting in the tactical room."

"And Sylva?" the Klingon cyborg asked as he stepped off the transporter platform.

"She is still in the Captain's quarters," H'ok answered. "Doctor Barlow is there now."

"Understood," Avenger said, already heading in the direction of the captain's quarters. He stopped when his security chief moved to follow him. "No, Ghon. Go with H'ok and wait in the tactical room."

"Sir?" Ghon asked surprised, his dark face intense.

"I will handle it," Avenger answered him firmly before continuing on.

Avenger walked the corridors he'd walked many times with Captain Sevren Dax, the Trill with a Klingon heart. His hearts were heavy with grief knowing that he would never walk with his friend again. Soon, he joined Doctor Julian Barlow, the ship's robust, middle-aged Terran doctor, outside the closed doors to the captain's quarters.

"Avenger," Barlow greeted him in relief.

"She will not come out?" he asked, knowing the answer from the doctor's expression.

"She won't even answer me," Barlow growled in frustration. The last several days had been a nightmare as he vainly struggled to save his best friend. Once he realized that Sevren Dax, a joined Trill, would die, he valiantly tried unsuccessfully to keep the host body alive long enough for the ship to be repaired or for help to arrive. Dax, the slug-like, four-hundred year old Trill symbiont that lived within Sevren in an abdominal pouch cavity that was a natural part of Trill physiology, could not survive more than a few hours outside the host body except in stasis. Tragically, Barlow's stasis equipment was destroyed during the attack. Before Sevren, Dax shared the lives of nine previous hosts, retaining their memories from one host to the next. Desperate to save that part of his friend that still lived on, Barlow pursued his only viable option.

Twenty-five years ago Barlow accompanied Lieutenant Sevren Dax to the Klingon Empire. When the Federation Council decided to give the decommissioned Defiant as a gift to the newly appointed governor of the capitol city of Qo'noS, former-Starfleet officer Worf, Ambassador Alexander Rhozhenko, Worf's son, asked for Sevren Dax to be included in the delegation. Having fallen for Worf's granddaughter during his trip, the always passionate Dax wanted to stay. Once the aging Worf reconciled himself to a male Dax, he and Alexander used their influence with Starfleet to have Sevren Dax reassigned as Federation liaison to the Empire. Once his duty with Starfleet was over, Worf made Dax captain of the Lightbearer, formerly the Defiant. Having no obligations left in the Federation, Barlow decided to stay with his friend Dax in the Klingon Empire. He stood beside Sevren Dax as Dax once again entered the House of Martok by marrying J'hler. He delivered Dax and J'hler's daughter, Sylva, the first Klingon/Trill hybrid.

Avenger punched the door chime as Barlow explained, "She needs time to adjust. She's been through a lot these past few days. Her father's death-" Barlow paused to swallow his own grief. "It hit her hard. And now, with the transplant . . . We had no choice. Dax would have died along with Sevren if we'd waited. The symbiont couldn't survive without a new host. Sylva was the only possible host available."

Avenger punched the chime again when there was no answer. He looked at Barlow, his cybernetic eye gleaming. He pounded on the portal. "Have these doors switched to manual override. Now."

* * *

Now someone was pounding on her door. Sylva huddled in a corner. All she wanted was to be left alone. Alone? With all these memories crowding out her own thoughts! By Kahless! She might as well sail the Barge to Gre`thor.

The doors slowly parted. One cybernetic hand appeared through the crack. Avenger! Who else would dare invade the captain's quarters?

She stood up and faced the invader. "naDev vo' yghoS! Go away!" she spat at Avenger as he squeezed through the barely opened doors. The doors closed behind him, locking the doctor out.

"Look at you, cowering in his room," Avenger challenged as he advanced on her. To her credit, she did not retreat. "You are a disgrace to his memory."

"What do you know about it?" She glared up at her judge. "I am his memory! I am now Sylva Dax. Do you have any idea what that means? My father's memories are now my memories. And don't forget the nine others before him, including Great Grandfather's dead wife."

"Then you dishonor them all," Avenger declared. "His murderers roam free while you lick your wounds. The ship is repaired and the crew awaits orders." He grabbed her by her shoulders. "Your orders. Captain!" Disgusted by a desire to ease the pain in her eyes, Avenger pushed Sylva away. "Coward."

She attacked. Avenger met her assault, countering her every move with his own. He had been her teacher. He caught her arms and pinned them behind her back as she struggled. Fury and pain unleashed, Sylva slammed her spotted ridges into his chin. Avenger's head snapped back and he lost hold of her arms. While he was still off-balance, she plowed into his chest, sending them both crashing to the floor. Before she could get to her feet, Avenger was on her.

"Enough!" Avenger ordered. "I am not your enemy." He waited until she had calmed down before releasing her and getting to his feet.

Sylva Dax stood and smoothed down her shift. She hadn't had the heart to wear her warrior's armor since the transplant. She focussed her attention on Avenger.

"Avenger, why do you call me captain? H'ok is first officer. I am barely second."

"You are Dax," Avenger answered, his deep voice leaving no room for argument. "On my recommendation and with Worf's support, the Chancellor and General Rayvaun have agreed that Dax should continue as captain."

Letting Avenger's words sink in, Sylva did not speak. She was Dax. She shuddered at the thought before allowing the truth to take hold. Her entire countenance changing before Avenger's eyes, Sylva Dax said, "You are right, my friend. I am Dax, and the dogs responsible for that fact will pay."

Avenger's eye widened in surprise. Had her voice been lower, Sylva would have sounded exactly like Sevren Dax.

"Get dressed. We will wait for you in the tactical room," he said, satisfied.

* * *

The tactical room seemed crowded to Barlow, the only human, surrounded by five Klingon officers. Colonel Anathema, the highest ranking officer, lifted a tankard of warnog and swallowed the strong Klingon brew with satisfaction while he listened to H'ok.

H'ok repeated what he knew about the attack. He had been in the cargo bay preparing the cargo transporters for a possible emergency transport of the crew of the beleaguered freighter. Had he been on the bridge. . .

Barlow thought he'd gone deaf for a moment. All conversation stopped, the silence blending with the silence coming from the bridge through the opening doors as Sylva Dax entered the tactical room. A thigh length cloak flowed from her shoulders. She wore it with the same flair that Sevren Dax had worn it only days earlier. A shining mane of dark hair fell about her shoulders, partially hiding the Trill markings that started at her gently ridged forehead and traveled down the sides of her face and neck to disappear beneath her vest and provocatively cut breastplate. A short skirt revealed dark leggings that disappeared into knee-high boots. Her d'k'tang was sheathed at her hip.

Sylva Dax paused just inside the doorway as her mind tried to process the overlapping perceptions of Sylva and Sevren regarding each occupant of the room. Latching onto Sevren's memories, she moved forward.

Ghon, grandson of Toq of the IKS Gorkon and House of Lorgh, felt a chill sweep over him as he watched Dax. Had Sevren Dax taken possession of his daughter? She moved and spoke like her dead father. Unseen by anyone, his hands trembled behind his back where he stood observing the room. He wanted to seize her and order her to cease her charade.

Uneasy looks were exchanged around the table as Dax proceeded to answer Anathema's questions about the attack that had killed the Lightbearer's captain. It was obvious that her account came from the perspective of the captain's chair, not tactical where she'd been stationed.

Anathema took a generous swallow of the warnog. He'd forgotten it during Sylva Dax's accounting. "Enough," he ordered in a booming voice. "Sylva. . . Dax, Avenger and your great-grandfather think that this  _joining_  qualifies you to follow your father as captain. I had my doubts, but no more," he said, barely pausing before adding, "Captain Sylva Dax."

Avenger looked to Anathema who nodded. He then stood up and unscrolled a parchment. "Captain Sylva Dax, it is my honor and privilege to present this commission, by order of Chancellor Chadeech, to you, my former student. You are now a member of the Batlh Squad Militia, the Chancellor's own elite squad."

"H'ok, pour your new captain some of this excellent warnog," Anathema ordered.

Swallowing his disappointment, the first officer of the BSM Lightbearer poured the warnog and gave it to his new captain. He then saluted her. As first officer, the captaincy should have been his. From a lower house on the third largest planet in the Klingon Empire, H'ok had worked and fought his way up the ranks only to be repeatedly passed over for captaincy in favor of some pampered scion of a greater house. By Gre'thor! The things he could have accomplished with this ship and crew.

Raising his tankard high, Major Ice Dragon offered a toast. "May all your battles be glorious! For the Empire!" The others around the table echoed his words, lifting their tankards high before draining them.

"Your father had the heart of a warrior," Anathema told Sylva Dax as he prepared to return to his ship. "I am proud to have called him friend. His loss is felt by all. While the Vengeance escorts the Lightbearer back to Qo'noS for repairs, Ice Dragon and I will use the time find out what we can about the pirates."

"Those dogs will pay," Ice Dragon assured her.

"I know they will!" she agreed.

Avenger squeezed her shoulder with his natural hand, his cybernetic right arm at his side. "The Vengeance stands ready."

Dax nodded. "H'ok, prepare us to get under way."

"Yes, Captain," H'ok answered and exited the tactical room.

"Qapla!" Anathema and Ice Dragon said together after exchanging knowing looks with Avenger.

"Jules, walk with us to the transporter," Avenger suggested.

"Of course," Barlow readily agreed. He led Anathema and Ice Dragon through the sliding doors.

"Permission to speak privately with your security chief?" Sylva Dax asked, her attention already shifting from Avenger to Ghon.

"Permission granted," Avenger said, nodding at Ghon. "We will leave as soon as the Lightbearer is ready. Do not keep him too long from his duties. Qapla!" Avenger exited and the doors closed behind him.

Sylva moved to embrace Ghon but found her wrists seized in his unyielding grasp.

"Who are you?" Ghon growled.

"Who am I?" Sylva asked, stunned. She met his gaze. "You know who I am."

"Sevren Dax entered this room. Who are you now?"

"I am Sylva," she insisted.

"You may live in her body and speak with her lips but you are not my Sylva!" he bit out. "What did you and that Terran doctor do? Prey upon her grief and sense of duty? What manner of creature sacrifices its offspring for its own survival?"

"You know nothing!"

"I know that Sylva wanted nothing to do with this  _joining._ Now I understand why." He shoved her away. "The sight of you disgusts me." He barely gave the doors time to open as he stormed out.

It took a moment before reaction took over. Like an enraged and wounded animal she howled.

The bridge crew of the Lightbearer paused briefly as Ghon stormed out of the tactical room and off the bridge. H'ok's presence kept them from openly speculating on what had transpired behind the closed doors. Instead, they continued to prepare the Lightbearer for its return home.

A few minutes later the doors to the tactical room opened once again. Captain Dax emerged. As one, the bridge crew cheered their new captain, having been informed by H'ok of the appointment.

Dax acknowledged her crew's congratulations with a nod and a toothy smile. Nobody noticed that the smile never reached her eyes. With the flair and bravado that endeared her Trill father to the nearly all Klingon crew he'd commanded, Dax claimed the captain's chair.

"H'ok, what is our status?" she asked immediately.

"Awaiting your orders, Captain," H'ok replied instantly.

"Signal the Vengeance. Best possible speed," she ordered.

 

* * *

 

"It must end!" the green visage on the monitor demanded.

G'kirk's face flushed a deeper shade of green. Few in the Orion syndicate dared to speak to him in such a manner. His ruthlessness and daring had earned him a fortune and a place at the head of one of the syndicate's fastest growing cartels. Malon, as the current syndicate overseer, was definitely one of those few.

"It will end. Very soon," G'kirk assured him. Even as they spoke, the cause of most of their recent setbacks was heading warp speed toward his coordinates. He had no regrets about sacrificing a member of his crew to the tender care of Klingon interrogators. She was coming. That was all that mattered. He needed to conclude this pleasant conversation so he could be on the bridge when she arrived.

Malon leaned forward to emphasize his next words. "You will be held accountable for any further losses suffered by the syndicate. Your recklessness stirred up the Klingons. That mad female leading the pack has made it clear that it is you she wants. Believe me, if you become too much of a liability, there are those who would think nothing of delivering you to her."

"Of that, I have little doubt," G'kirk replied gravely, having no trouble imagining his business rival, Gronk, doing just that.

* * *

_". . . Under attack by unknown ship," said a staticky voice. "Repeat . . . is freighter . . . help us . . . attack by . . . ship."_

_"Don't listen to them!" Sylva shouted. "It is a trap!" This time Tobin Dax and Lela Dax restrained her._

_And as he'd done countless times before, Sevren Dax, perching on the edge of the captain's chair, ordered Torias Dax to set an intercept course with the imperiled freighter at maximum warp._

_Yet again, the battle-ready Lightbearer warped to the rescue, the crew studiously ignoring Sylva's protests. Joran Dax at tactical, impatiently waited to play his instruments of death against the unknown ship; Ezri Dax continued to monitor the freighter's increasingly desperate pleas for help; and Jadzia Dax never looked away from the long range scanners._

_Dropping out of warp, the Lightbearer approached the damaged freighter which hung crookedly in space. Alone._

_"Ship . . . your arrival . . . our rescue . . . " There was an obvious pause. "Help us! . . . damage to . . . core . . . explode . . . transport now!"_

_"Reading massive energy build up!" Jadzia Dax reported._

_Sevren Dax didn't hesitate. Over Sylva's frantic protests, he ordered, "Lock onto life signs. Transporter ready. Lower shields."_

_"Raise shields!" Jadzia Dax cried a second too late as a concentrated, high-energy pulse slammed the Lightbearer. The bridge was engulfed in smoke as consoles exploded. Emony Dax and Audrid Dax appeared on the bridge and knelt beside the prone form of Sevren Dax as the smoke slowly cleared._

_Audrid Dax shook her head after examining Sevren Dax and stood up. "We need a new host," she proclaimed._

_To Sylva's horror, they were all staring at her. She shook her head._

_"Surrender or die!" Curzon Dax told her._

_" jeghbe` thlInganpu`," Sylva cried. "Klingons never surrender."_

Shaking, Sylva Dax woke up abruptly. Once again, sleep was denied her. Still exhausted, she stopped by the refresher before heading back to the bridge. They would arrive at G'kirk's last known coordinates in a few hours.

* * *

As the vessel grew on the bridge's view screen, the damage became apparent. The hull had been breached. Gradually, tiny dots could be seen flitting around the breached section.

"No sign of other ships?"

"None."

"Should we make contact?" the comm officer asked.

"Maintain silence," the ship's captain ordered, turning to the ship's tactical officer. "Remain cloaked until we know who holds the ship.

The bridge crew attended to their duties in silence as they continued to close on the damaged vessel. Their captain sat still as a rock, eyes never leaving the view screen.

The science officer watched the scanners intently. "Reading bio signs now!"

"Report!"

"Klingon!" she shouted triumphantly.

The captain did not join the cheering crew as the science officer returned to the scanners. The captain waited.

"Reading one human and one Klingon/Trill hybrid."

"Open channels," Avenger ordered, feeling some of the tension leave his massive frame.

* * *

After reviewing the senior officers' reports and relaying his findings back to Qo'noS, Avenger met with Commander H'ok and Dr. Julian Barlow. "I have spoken with Worf. He agrees with you, doctor," Avenger informed Barlow, the Lightbearer's human doctor. "H'ok, you will take command of the ship and return home for repairs."

H'ok nodded. Command was officially his, finally. He had swallowed his disappointment when command of the ship went to Sylva, unable to deny the logic in Dax continuing as captain in the body of its new host, Sylva Dax. The transition started well and the crew eagerly followed their captain in her campaign against the Orion pirates. Once Sylva Dax discovered the name of the Orion responsible for the ruse that killed her father, her assaults were orchestrated to flush him out. Unfortunately, Sylva Dax became increasingly erratic in her behavior as the months dragged on. When the Orion they'd captured finally revealed G'kirk's location, she ordered the Lightbearer's helm officer to set course at maximum speed, refusing to wait for backup. Then her refusal to leave the area when G'kirk's other ships warped in, forced H'ok to take command and confine her to quarters. Had this been a traditional Klingon ship . . .

"And Sylva?" Jules asked. "She barely sleeps anymore."

"She goes to Trill."

"To Trill?" Sylva Dax cried in disbelief. "What of my blood oath? My ship and crew?" She closed the gap between them. "Avenger, we almost had him. His shields were buckling when those other ships warped in."

"Four ships," he growled. "It was a trap."

"Of course it was a trap!" Her eyes unusually bright beneath her gently ridged brow, she stared at him, not believing he'd felt it necessary to state the obvious. "All we needed were a few more minutes."

"A few more minutes and you would all be dead," Avenger threw the words at her. "I have seen H'ok's report."

"H'ok!" Sylva spat with fury. "G'kirk lives because of him."

"You live because of him. Because of him no more than nine warriors died," Avenger rumbled back. "H'ok did no less than Dax would have done. Your father never put personal glory before the good of his ship. Dax -"

"I am Dax! Remember?" she shouted. "Sevren died, but I live! The survival of the symbiont comes before all else. Ezri? Sylva? What do they matter? Dax lives!"

Avenger's eye widened in disbelief. "You wanted to die," he stated.

"Yes," she choked out and turned from him. "During the battle I realized that today was a good day to die. G'kirk would die and so would I."

"Dax, what of your crew?" Avenger asked, already knowing the answer.

A Klingon warrior did not cry before others. A sob escaped her, proof of how far she had descended. "The others, Avenger. They won't let me sleep. They keep trying to claim what's left of me. I've tried to hold on but each day I lose more of myself. I-I am going mad!" Another sob escaped. "Avenger, help me," she cried.

Awkwardly, Avenger wrapped his arms around her, being careful of the pressure exerted by his cybernetic right arm. What had they done to Sevren's child? In his desperation to save Dax and the legacy of all its hosts, Jules had prevailed over Sylva's long-established decision not to become a joined Trill by appealing to her love for her father and sense of familial duty. Then, he and Worf, in typical Klingon fashion, had decided that passing the mantle of her father's captaincy to Sylva Dax and allowing her to take point in the campaign of vengeance against his killers was the best way for her to come to grips with what had happened. It was too much to expect an untrained, newly joined Trill to handle, much less a Klingon/Trill hybrid who had succeeded her own father as the next host of the Trill symbiont.

"I am taking you to Trill."

The surviving crew of the Lightbearer bid their captain farewell and a speedy return. Though he would have preferred to accompany Sylva Dax to Trill, Jules had too many injured crewmen needing his attention on board the battered BSM Lightbearer. Since it was nearly impossible for him to keep his mobile Klingon patients in the medical bay once they were sufficiently patched up, he made the rounds of the ship, checking the recovery status of his patients at their posts.

To his relief, few crewmen faulted Dax with the outcome of the battle. In fact, many boasted of the victory they'd had over the Orion's ship which had been at least three times the Lightbearer's size. They laughed at the fact that such a large ship had been forced to call for help.

* * *

On board the Vengeance, Security Chief Ghon carried his gear into the temporary quarters he had been assigned. Sylva Dax had been given his quarters for the duration of the journey.

He had meant to be clear of his quarters by the time she arrived, but was not quick enough. The door opened and there she was with Maruk, first officer of the Vengeance and his friend, by her side.

"Ghon," she'd said in surprise.

Sevren's swagger was gone, he noted. "Captain Dax," Ghon said, acknowledging a superior officer and no more. She flinched, making him feel a twinge of guilt. Maruk's disapproving glare, however, angered him. "I must go." He brushed passed them and hurried in the direction of his temporary quarters.

In a few days, the Vengeance entered Federation space unchallenged. Ambassador Alexander Rozhenko had personally seen to it that his granddaughter's flight plans received priority clearance. Starfleet brass considered sending an honor guard to escort the ship to Trill but were finally convinced by the ambassador that his granddaughter would prefer to keep her journey to Trill as quiet as possible.

At Avenger's insistence, Sylva Dax ate her meals at the captain's table and joined her childhood friend, Maruk, during his daily workout. He feared that too much time alone would leave Dax prey to unhealthy brooding.

The noise in the mess hall would have deafened a Vulcan. The Klingons reveled in it. Avenger kept the captain's table lively, joking with his officers and trying at times to coax the quietest member at the table to join in. He was more successful when Ghon was not there.

When Ghon joined the table for meals, he joked and laughed with the others, boasting of his prowess in battle. He appeared oblivious to Sylva Dax's presence when, in truth, he was aware of little else.

He was at the table the night before the Vengeance was scheduled to reach Trill. Sylva endured the meal for as long as she could. The perpetual lack of adequate sleep robbed her of her natural vitality, making her efforts to respond to Avenger, pathetic at best. Ghon's presence tonight was more than she could deal with in her weary, vulnerable state.

"Avenger, I must go," she told him. She was out of her seat before he could respond.

"Dax, we will reach Trill tomorrow morning. Try to rest."

She nodded and left. Ghon watched her exit. He almost followed. It wasn't like him to avoid confrontation. Yet, he had done all he could to avoid one with Sylva. Throughout the trip he had watched her from a distance, whenever duty allowed. Everytime he'd found himself softening towards her, someone would refer to her as Dax. The anger would return.

"Chief, walk with me," Avenger ordered, leaving the table.

Ghon immediately complied and fell into step beside Avenger as they left the mess hall. The two warriors walked together in silence through the narrow corridors of the Vengeance for a few minutes. Ghon knew his commanding officer well enough to wait until he was ready to speak. In the meantime, he mentally reviewed the day's activities and security issues waiting to be addressed so that he could respond promptly to any of the Major's inquiries.

"Who do you punish?"

"Sir?" Ghon started, surprised by the question. "We have no prisoners."

"Dax or Sylva." Avenger stopped walking and faced his security chief. He focused his attention on him, his optical implant reading body temperature while the natural eye took in Ghon's outward countenance. "Which one are you trying to punish?"

Ghon opened his mouth to deny Avenger's words but could not. Instead, he recalled asking Sylva, soon after Maruk introduced them at the academy, if she would go to Trill to be  _joined_  like her father. She'd told him that she'd already been to Trill to please her father, taken all the medical and psych tests, learned all she'd wanted to know about being a joined Trill, and then adamantly decided that she would never play host to one of the slug-like creatures known as symbionts. She would not allow one to live vicariously through her before sharing her memories with its next host once she was dead.

"It was wrong," he insisted.

"It is done," Avenger countered. "It no longer matters if it was right or wrong. Sylva Dax lives as a joined being. You cannot punish one without punishing the other." Avenger closed what little space separated them. "I speak as Dax's friend, not your commanding officer. After the Romulans nearly killed me years ago, friends like Dax and Ice Dragon helped me build a new life to replace the one I can no longer remember. If you cannot be her mate, at least be a friend." Without another word, Avenger strode away.

_"Jules, I'm in love," Sevren announced._

_"Snap out of it! You're not Worf's type anymore."_

_"Worf? He'll always be special to me but I'm talking about J'hler."_

_"Come, Grandfather," J'hler invited as her husband presented the baby to Worf. "Meet the newest member of the House of Martok."_

_"Worf, I was right. Our child would have been beautiful," Jadzia sighed, holding the infant Sylva in her arms._

_"Nay, husband," J'hler confronted Sevren. "You will not send our only child far away to a Trill school. Look at her. She is Klingon," she declared, pointing at an adolescent Sylva sparring with her father's 1st lieutenant, his cybernetic implants flashing in the sun._

_Ezri stood her ground. "She is also Trill. She needs to know her full heritage. Jules tells me that she is capable of being a host. She deserves to be able to make an informed choice."_

_Audrid sighed, "I'm sorry, Mother, that Sylva has been so disruptive. J'hler and I are enroute to Trill now."_

_"What happened?" Sevren asked, alarmed and prepared to do battle. "What did they do to her?"_

_Ghon pointed in her direction. "They turned her into a monster!"_

Sylva bolted out of bed.

Unable to sleep, he'd gone to Sylva's quarters only to find it empty. He knew he'd find her here. The holodeck rang with the clang of metal on metal. Primal cries erupted from disparate throats, Klingon and alien. Ghon's blood raced with the pounding of his hearts as he watched the magnificent fury cut down one holographic foe after another. As she clashed with a helmeted Breen soldier, a huge Orion male leaped from the shadows of some trees directly behind Sylva. Checking her swing, Sylva twisted and rolled out of the converging arcs of her two massive opponents. Unable to stop his forward momentum, the Orion fell onto the blade intended for Sylva. While the Breen shifted to free his blade, Sylva rolled to her feet just behind him, pivoted and drove her bat'leth across his torso, cleaving him in two.

As Sylva spun around, prepared to meet her next attacker, everything around her froze. Confused, she turned to find Ghon approaching her, bat'leth held loosely at his side. She charged, swinging with all her might.

"I am not a monster!" she shrieked. Fueled by the pain and rage that ate at her, she lashed out repeatedly.

Struggling against his own passions, Ghon defended himself. Once the intensity of her attack began to fade, Ghon went on the offensive, forcing Sylva back against a tree. He tore the bat'leth from her and flung it away. Ghon pinned Sylva against the tree with his body when she attempted to reclaim her weapon. Sylva struggled to dislodge the weight that crushed the breath from her breast. Confusion gripped her as Ghon's scent aroused passions that threatened to overtake the emotions that fueled her struggles. She pressed against him and lifted her face to meet his gaze. Closing her eyes, Sylva leaned into Ghon's neck, inhaling deeply. He tasted blood, her blood. Surprised, Ghon stared at the mark heﾒd just made above her jaw line. With considerable effort, he tore himself away.

"No!" Ghon commanded desperately as Sylva, predatory gleam in her eyes, prepared to launch herself at him. "I did not come here for that!"

Leaning against the tree, she said bitterly, "Oh, yes, I forgot. The sight of me disgusts you."

Ghon watched a drop of blood drip from her jaw into the valley revealed by the cut of her breastplate. He shuddered and took a steadying breath. Her scent nearly robbed him of his purpose.

"I would be your friend," he finally said.

"My friend," she said softly, "but not my mate." She pushed away from the tree so that she could face him squarely. "Perhaps you are right. I am not fit to be anyone's mate. What kind of creature am I? I have stolen my own child's life and made a mess of it. I would have sacrificed my ship and crew if H'ok hadn't stopped me just to make G'kirk pay for what his piracy has cost me."

"Sylva," Ghon said, not knowing what else to say.

"Sylva Dax," she corrected him. Deliberately, she drew the memories and mannerisms of Sevren Dax about her as she'd done months ago. "So, you would be my friend. Are you sure it will be safe enough for you?" Without another word, she left him on the holodeck.

Stunned, Ghon just watched her go. Safe enough? Definitely not! She had just called a Klingon warrior a coward to his face and walked away without looking back. She was not fit to be the mate of the faint of heart.

Was he faint of heart? He had never run from a foe in his life. When he'd realized the depth of his feelings for Sylva recently, he hadn't hesitated in declaring himself and, when he objected, breaking the nose of her escort to the opera the crews of the Vengeance and Lightbearer had attended. He smiled at the memory. The ensuing riot had turned a lackluster performance into a rousing success. He hadn't backed down as her father and great grandfather, living legends both, challenged his intentions and his well-earned reputation with women.

He was nobody's coward. Yet, how else did he explain his extreme reaction? Months ago, waiting with the others in the tactical room for Sylva Dax, he'd thought himself prepared to deal with the changes the  _joining_  would have made in her. Then it seemed that Sevren Dax entered the room wearing his daughter's body, driving home the fact that his lady warrior was no more. In her place walked a nearly immortal being that had already lived ten lifetimes over a span of four hundred or so years, as a man and as a woman. What use would such a being have for him, a 30-year old security officer before too long? Anger had masked his fear and, when the time came, he had gone on the offensive, rejecting the woman he was afraid would find him lacking.

* * *

Sylva Dax emerged from the refresher in a light shift prepared to spend the rest of a sleepless night reliving the scene on the holodeck. Somehow, Ghon's offer of friendship cut her as deeply as his initial rejection.

The door chime sounded. She was tempted to ignore it but decided that the fastest way to get rid of the intruder would be to answer the door.

"Nuqneh?" she called, making the customary Klingon greeting (What do you want?) more of a challenge than a greeting.

"It is Maruk," came the response.

"Come," she invited. She didn't need Ghon's friendship. She had Maruk and Avenger. They did not find her disgusting.

Maruk entered Sylva's quarters. He stopped just within the closing doors, taking in the tall supple form outlined by the thin shift. There was a strange look in her eyes.

"I was finally able to replicate my mother's sleeping tonic. I thought it might help you," he said, holding out a vial with a milky substance in it.

Without a word, Sylva took the vial and drank the contents straight down, grimacing at the bitter taste.

"It is as bitter as I remembered it," she said, putting the vial down.

Maruk grinned, starting to relax. "It was the taste that told me I had replicated it correctly, Milady."

"Maruk, you have called me 'Milady' since we were children. What can I do to get you to stop?" she practically purred.

Too late, he noticed the fresh bite mark on her jaw and knew he was on dangerous ground. He would disembowel Ghon for this! He tried to keep a light tone, "Now that you outrank me, nothing."

"Are you so sure?" she asked, closing the small gap between them.

"Sylva," he started, suddenly hoarse. "I will always be your friend."

"Everyone wants to be my friend tonight," she growled, pulling him into her embrace.

Leaving the holodeck behind, Ghon set his course for Sylva's quarters. Now that he finally knew his own mind, she must know it too. He needed to talk to her before she left the ship. Perhaps they could begin again.

When he arrived at her quarters, the one thing he was sure of was that she would not let him in. Without pausing, Ghon opened the security panel beside the door and punched in his security code. The doors opened with a satisfying whoosh and reason left him.

He spun Maruk out of Sylva's arms just as she pulled him close and slammed Maruk with all his considerable might in the face. Taken off guard, Maruk crashed to the floor. He was on his feet immediately, ready to bring down his attacker but Sylva was between them.

"Get out!" she snarled.

"And leave you with him?" Ghon countered. He looked at Maruk and sneered, "My friend."

Maruk struggled against his own head-butting instincts that demanded he destroy the rival for his mate. He shook his head to clear it. Sylva wasn't his mate. She had chosen his best friend, this same petaQ that was acting like a ravenous targ whose only meal was in the jaws of a rival.

"If I were not your friend, you would be dead right now or heading to a holding cell. What do you want here, Lieutenant?" Maruk grunted in satisfaction as his friend made an effort to calm down.

Ghon directed his response to Sylva who still stood between them, "We must talk."

"We have talked," she said. "Maruk, remove your security chief from my quarters or I will have his own men do it."

"Aye, Milady," Maruk answered. He laid a cautionary hand on Ghon's arm when he tried to follow Sylva who had once again turned her back and walked away.

She was so weary. Control was a gossamer thread unraveling. She would not break down before witnesses, especially not Ghon. There was a brief murmuring behind her before the doors opened. The doors closed and, as she'd done months ago, Sylva Dax surrendered to the pain and howled like a wounded animal. Her strength deserted her then. She tried to reach the bed but her legs would no longer support her. Before she could hit the floor, she was pulled back against a wall of solid muscle and held there by a corded band of titanium.

"Is a fool permitted to redeem himself?" Ghon asked.

His words rumbled along the ridges of her spine. A part of her wanted to make him bleed as he had made her these past few months but she was too weary.

"A fool can try," she answered, still leaning against him.

"We must talk," Ghon said, reminding himself of his purpose. "Come," he said, leading Sylva to the small couch sitting against the wall opposite the bed.

Sylva Dax allowed herself to be led to the couch and seated. She neither leaned toward him or moved away when Ghon joined her. She would allow him to make his excuses. What happened after that she was not certain.

Encouraged by Sylva's cooperation, Ghon did one of the hardest things a warrior could do: he swallowed his pride and admitted that he had reacted out of fear.

"I am not fool enough to believe that matters between us can ever be the same. Too much has happened," Ghon said finally.

"And I am still joined," Sylva Dax added bitterly. She was so tired. Her limbs had grown heavy as Ghon talked and her thoughts fuzzy. "I did not want to be," she whispered, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. "I wanted to take the Oath-to join with you." She was silent for a moment, staring unseeingly at the other side of the room.

In a voice he almost didn't recognize, she continued, "I could hear him. Pleading with her. I tried to stop him but Sevren's lips would not move. Ezri wasn't trained, you know. She never wanted to be joined yet she did it to save me. That is what he told her." Despite the chill that swept through him, Ghon did not withdraw as he listened.

"But Ezri was a Starfleet counselor raised in Trill society. She was not my child! Jules should have known. Not Sylva! Not my child! He should have let me die."

Ghon groaned at her words and pulled Sylva Dax into his arms. He held her as her body shook with silent sobs.

She was pinned down! Sylva's eyes flew open. Quickly, she took stock of her situation, ready to fight her way out. Her armor and d'k'tagh, along with the rest of her uniform, lay where she had discarded them after returning from the holodeck. Another uniform belonging to a much larger warrior lay neatly beside hers. Ghon. It was the weight of his arm across her back that held her in place on the bed. She still wore her shift.

She remembered sitting with him on the couch talking. He'd held her as she relived Dax's nightmare within Sevren's dying body and-. She must have . . .

"Maruk's sleeping tonic!" she thought aloud with such disgust that Ghon laughed against her hair. She twisted around to face him. "Don't laugh," she warned. "You stayed. Why?"

He did not hesitate in answering, "Because I would be  _your_  mate, Sylva Dax."

She pushed up onto her knees so that she could have a better look at the warrior sharing her bed for the first time. He was naked save for his loincloth. A confusing kaleidoscope of intimate moments of past hosts bombarded her then. Overwhelmed, she raised a hand as though to shield herself and cried, "No!"

For one brief moment, Ghon thought she had rejected him. Realizing she was in distress, he rose to his knees and held her close once more.

The unbidden images receded as Sylva Dax's focus shifted to the warmth surrounding her. Now, experiences not her own served to guide her as she explored the wall of brown flesh before her. Her eager assault sent them both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of bedclothes and limbs as his scent and the taste and smell of his blood pushed her over the edge. Shift and loincloth were lost as the two wrestled upon the floor between the wall and the bed.

"Dax?"

"Nuqneh?" Sylva Dax roared, rearing up to glare at the intruder across the bed.

A surprised Avenger rushed forward when he saw blood on her face. "Are you hurt?" He'd heard the thud of a body hitting the floor through the closed doors after hitting the door chime for the second time. Concerned, he had used his security code to enter.

"No!" she gasped, trying to catch her breath. Ghon lay partially beneath her, gritting his teeth in frustration. "Stay back. I'm fine."

Avenger checked his forward motion, immediately understanding the situation. A wicked gleam appeared in his eye.

"I thought I told you to get some rest," he teased his friend. He should have talked to Ghon days ago, he thought, pleased.

Sylva Dax leaned closely against the side of the bed, using one bare arm for support. Ghon knelt beside her.

"I got plenty of rest thanks to Maruk," she said ruefully.

"Maruk?" Avenger asked, confused.

"Sleeping tonic," Ghon explained in disgust.

Avenger roared with laughter, now getting the full picture. He sobered quickly when he saw the murderous looks on the lovers' faces. For Dax's sake, he regretted his next words. "Well, we have just entered Trill space. I came to help you carry your things to the transporter room but I see I am not needed. Lieutenant, get Captain Dax to the transporter room without delay. I will meet you there." With that, he exited.

Ghon sighed, "It is for the best."

"How so?" Sylva asked, searching his face to see if he now regretted what had nearly happened between them.

Ghon pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered, "Our  _joining_ should be without restraint."

Memory flashed of Jadzia and Worf helping each other into sickbay after their first time and Julian's startled reaction. She couldn't arrive on Trill with bruises and barely mended bones. Sighing, Dax slipped from his arms.

"Yes, I agree. Help me get ready." Sylva quickly gathered the clothing she would wear and rushed towards the refresher.

"Sylva," Ghon said just as she was entering the refresher. "We will finish what we started when you return from Trill," he promised.

"I will still be Dax," she said as the door opened. She wanted to be sure that he understood that her being joined would not change. She was going to Trill to learn how to live as a joined Trill and how to cope with being joined to her father's symbiont.

"I know."

Ghon strode onto the bridge and took his post after seeing Sylva Dax off. Avenger had said his good-byes to Sylva Dax first then left the two lovers alone in the transporter room to say their good-byes.

Sauntering innocently to Ghon's side, Maruk said in a mock whisper, "I believe your lip is bleeding."

"Yes," Ghon stated without explanation. He simply licked the blood from his lip as the ship's captain gave the order to break orbit.

"Set course for the Empire!"

* * *

The green slave girl ran from the chamber, escaping her master's foul temper. Pleasing him had become impossible since he'd returned to base, his ship heavily damaged and more than a fourth of his crew dead or badly injured. She barely avoided a collision with Tar'vod, G'kirk's second in command, as he headed in the direction from which she was fleeing.

Tar'vod bowed, not rising until G'kirk gave him permission to do so. "Repairs are on schedule," he reported.

"I did not call you here about the repairs," G'kirk snapped. "I want news of that she-demon!"

"According to our sources in Klingon-held territory, her ship returned to Qo'noS for repairs. Whether or not she was on it, is not known."

"Then find out. Let it be known that I will pay handsomely for information that puts her in my hands" G'kirk stood up and marched over to a table holding a carafe of Romulan ale. He brought it to his lips and swallowed deeply. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his robe, he turned back to Tar'vod. "I want Sylva Dax."

To Be Continued

 


	2. You Know Nothing of Klingons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is it wrong for a child to know both sides of her heritage? Sylva was proud of her mixed blood before she came here." Sevren closed the gap between himself and the brother he'd once been so close to. "What happened to change that?" he growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, of course, do not own any recognizable characters from the Star Trek: Deep Space Nine series and novels. All other characters are my own creation, many based on the avatars of my former fleet comrades, including my own: Sylva Dax. Reviews are most welcome.

 

* * *

She haunted his dreams. a she-demon, her eyes glittering with manic fire as she'd faced him across a viewscreen. He'd taunted her, asking if she'd die as easily as her gullible father. That was when he'd absolutely known that his ship was large enough to swat her pathetic little craft out of existence. But the Lightbearer's shields had been stronger than he anticipated, holding against his vessel's first salvo. The blasted ship then danced out of range. Darting in and out, its polaron torpedoes devoured his ship's shields, clearing the way for incisive lances of the smaller ship's diruptors.

Realizing that he was in danger of losing his ship, G'kirk had been forced to call in the four ships he'd had standing by in case the Lightbearer was not alone. Almost boxed in, the smaller ship shot forward on a collision course with his ship, disruptors blazing against his failing shields. At the last moment, the Lightbearer adjusted its trajectory downward, sparking against G'kirk's shields as it passed. If a well-timed torpedo from the lead backup ship hadn't penetrated the Lightbearer's shields at its weakest point, she might have gotten in the killing blow. Instead, the Lightbearer had continued passed his ship, using it as a shield while sealing its own breached hull with emergency shielding before cloaking and warping away.

Now, still smarting from his humiliating defeat at her hands, G'kirk could not dismiss Sylva Dax from his feral mind. Was she alive or dead? Her continued silence since the battle was promising but not enough. Besides, the more he thought of it, the more he realized he wanted the Klingon alive.

* * *

_"You know nothing of Klingons!"_

_"And you do?" Jovren retorted. "A few months joined to Dax and you are ready to marry one? Sevren, think this thing through!" Jovren implored, siezing his younger brother by his broad shoulders._

_Shaking his brother off, Sevren distanced himself from Jovren. "Is this why you came all the way to Qo'noS? To stop me from marrying J'hler. Why don't you rip Dax from me while you're at it?"_

_Jovren was silent for a moment. "I know you both traveled here on the Defiant-"_

_"Lightbearer," Sevren corrected._

_Nodding impatiently, Jovren continued, "And I'll admit there is a savage beauty about her. Did you-? Sevren, are you being forced to marry her?"_

_Sevren Dax sent his brother back to Trill with a swift punch to the jaw. They didn't speak to each other again until years later when Sevren sent a 10-year old Sylva to Trill to attend school. Her disruptive behavior led to the next confrontation between brothers._

_"Did you really think Sylva would fit in at a Trill school? Any fool could see that she's too much a Klingon to appreciate our ways," Jovren told his brother when the two inadvertently found themselves alone together._

_Resentment suffused Sevren as his brother's words came perilously close to echoing J'hler's objection when he had first suggested sending their daughter to Trill._

_"Is it wrong for a child to know both sides of her heritage? Sylva was proud of her mixed blood before she came here." Sevren closed the gap between himself and the brother he'd once been so close to. "What happened to change that?" he growled._

_"Nothing," Jovren answered, dismissing the taunts of her peers that drove the proud adolescent to lash out or the frequent lectures on acceptable Trill behavior she'd received from him and a few of her teachers. He moved away before adding, "Face it, Sevren: You can't have it all. You married a Klingon and your daughter is Klingon. She will never be anything more."_

_Sevren Dax walked away without answering. It was the last time the brothers ever saw each other._

Jovren. Of all the people to be the first to greet her upon her return to Trill, he was the least welcome. But there he stood beside Danon Tir, the one teacher who had appeared to understand her.

Finally, the transporter beam released her. Danon Tir stepped forward with outstretched arms. "Welcome back to Trill, Sylva Dax," he said, the slightest of hesitations with her name.

"Danon Tir," Sylva said, clasping his outstretched arms briefly. "I am pleased to be met by such an old friend," Dax continued, ignoring Jovren's awkward presence.

"Perhaps you will be even more pleased to know that I have been assigned as your primary counselor," Tir said, smiling until he saw a mark on her face. "Sylva, have you been fighting? That is a bite mark."

Thinking of the biter and the promises between them, Sylva smiled. "I am betrothed," she said, taking a perverse pleasure in Jovren's discomfiture.

"Oh, I see," Tir responded, blushing slightly. "I look forward to discussing it with you."

"Sylva," Jovren started, refusing to be ignored any longer. "You have grown as lovely as your mother."

"In a savage sort of way?" she prompted, unable to leave the past alone. To her satisfaction, Jovren flinched. "Why are you here, Jovren?" Dax asked, Sevren Dax's hurt evident in her voice.

Stepping in to diffuse the situation, Tir explained, "Sylva, your grandparents would like for you to stay with them rather than here at the Institute. Your uncle has come to take you to them."

"It would be better if I stay here," Sylva protested.

"Please," Jovren said, stepping towards her. "It would mean a great deal to them. Sevren's death has hit them hard. It hit us all hard."

Sylva Dax was silent for a moment as she regarded the man who was the first to ever make her feel as though she were less than she was. No matter how she felt about Jovren, and she wasn't sure how she actually felt, she could not punish her grandparents because of him. She had not seen them since their one and only trip to the Empire about a year before she entered the academy. She was very fond of them.

"Very well. For their sake, I will do as they ask," she finally agreed. She was surprised by the sudden longing she had to see Sevren's parents again.

Once again, Sylva found herself staying in her father's old room. She revisited Sevren's youth through Dax's shared memories and through her father's old journals, buried and forgotten within the bowels of his personal computer. Using long-forgotten access codes, she retrieved and read her father's journals.

Sevren had been adventurous to a fault as a boy. When he wasn't pursuing an adventure, he was reading about one. He'd read Jake Sisko's fantastic tales about a band of mercernaries in the Gamma quadrant that warped from adventure to adventure in a mysterious living ship so often he'd nearly memorized them.

As the months passed, Sylva became a favorite with her younger cousins who insisted upon tale after tale of Sevren's and Avenger's adventures in the Empire. Her daily workout became a group activity, with Sylva teaching the rudiments of Mok'bara to her cousins. To her surprise, the time spent with her Trill relatives proved to be as therapeutic as her hours with the counselors at the Institute.

Gradually, through various exercises, Sylva found a tolerable balance between herself and the combined lives of Dax's previous hosts. The hardest thing she was just starting to come to grips with was Dax's guilt.

Sevren Dax had lain on the operating table in the sickbay of the heavily-damaged Lightbearer, a prisoner of his dying body, unable to convey to his best friend, Dr. Julius Barlow, Dax's horrified refusal to be joined with daughter Sylva. Recalling Ezri's struggles to reclaim the reigns of her practically stolen life, Dax preferred death to the torment his daughter would be put through.

Knowing all that Sylva had been forced to deal with upon joining with Dax, including the inheritance of her father's captaincy, her counselors were amazed that she'd remained sane. Ironically, the one thing that had helped her hold onto her sanity was also a contributor to her ultimate breakdown. Her blood oath against G'kirk not only kept Sylva focused enough to hold onto her identity but also fed her mounting anger.

Sylva paced within the confines of her room, upset by Damon Tir's probing observations about her strained relationship with Jovren. Sevren had never spoken to anyone about the wound his brother's disapproval had carved in his heart. J'hler and Julius had quickly learned to avoid mentioning Jovren's name. Sylva had had her own reasons for not discussing Jovren. She had been relieved when he had not accompanied her grandparents on their one visit to Qo'Nos.

Now, as Sylva Dax, Sevren's pain coalesced with hers. The sight of Jovren affronted her though he had been nothing but polite since her arrival. How could Tir expect her to put all that pain behind her?

After months of progress, she'd reached an impasse. The nightmares were mostly gone and the few she did have no longer robbed her of sleep. She'd recently undergone the ritual that brought a current host face to face with the symbiont's previous hosts via the borrowed bodies of volunteers. Finally, she stopped resisting their role in her new life as Dax's host.

Also, her night with Ghon had played a pivotal role in her recovery. The anger and remorse that had been Sevren Dax's and then Dax's alone had made the joining of a new host and symbiont a torturous thing. Ghon's acceptance that night was almost an absolution.

Unable to take the confines of her quarters any longer Sylva made her way to the pond behind her grandparent's home. Memories of Sevren and Jovren playing in the pond as boys haunted her. Jovren, coming to his impetuous brother's rescue time and again through the years. Acutely, she recalled Sevren's fear as he cradled his injured brother's head within a subturanean cave Sevren had wanted to explore. She felt Sevren's joy, tinged with disappointment, as the Starfleet cadet watched another stand by his brother when Jovren married Ludz Prim, a joined Trill. She recalled his surprise when he learned that Jovren would not become a joined Trill, a dream he'd professed since childhood. And she knew Sevren's regret when his return to Trill for training as a host candidate failed to bridge the gap that had grown between the brothers.

Sylva Dax's nostrils flared, the Klingon's keen sense of smell telling her she was no longer alone.

"Stay, Jovren," she commanded without turning, sensing his retreat. "We must talk."

"As you wish, niece," Jovren said, moving to stand beside her. He waited patiently as she stood silently searching for the right words.

"Why?"

"Sevren had everything," he answered, knowing what she asked. "I hadn't realized how much I had come to resent it. My marriage was in trouble and my political career had plateaued far from my goal." He reached out to his niece. "Sylva, I never set out to hurt my brother. Something just snapped when I saw him in his Starfleet finery, his wedding attended by dignitaries I'd once dreamed of working beside." Jovren paused in the explanation it was too late to give to his brother. "And he had Dax. He was joined, something I could no longer hope to be because of the accident. I blamed him in that moment for everything."

"The cave," Syva Dax mouthed in surprise. "Why was Sevren never told?"

Jovren had the grace to look sheepish when he answered, "I knew he would blame himself."

Dax just stared at Jovren. Years of pain and anger crumbled before such absurdity. Pivoting suddenly, Dax shoved Jovren into the pond just as a youthful Sevren would have done. She watched Jovren splutter and splash with hands on her hips, ignoring the outcry from the house in the distance.

"That was for my father," Sylva Dax explained. Stepping to the very edge of the pond, she extended a hand to Jovren who watched her warily from where he stood chest deep in water. Running feet thudded behind her. "Come, uncle, let me help you out. You are all wet."

For one brief moment Jovren considered yanking his niece into the water but thought better of it when he felt the strength of her grip. Instead, he clasped her hand and scrambled up the slippery embankment.

"Well done, niece." And with that he yanked her into a soggy embrace just as his three children, his father, and Damon Tir reached them.

"You have made great progress today," Tir commented as the happy ensemble headed back to the house.

"Woman, cease your torment of me. You have been gone too long," he implored her, only half jokingly. "bomDI' 'IwwIj qaqaw." His words,  _The memory of you sings in my blood_ , brought a smile to Sylva's lips. The message from her betrothed, one of two messages waiting for her on the terminal in her room, reached her through the cold vastness of space to warm her blood. "There are times I come close to disemboweling Maruk for that sleeping draft he gave you." A rakish grin stole across his face. "My men complain that I have become unbearable. They threaten to have Avenger drop me on Risa, but have no fear. I have made it plain enough that Trill holds the only cure." He leaned closer. "How do you fair, beloved? Are your grandfather's reports accurate? They had better be for I intend to commandeer the Lightbearer and fetch you home as soon as our current mission is completed.

"The Vengeance is heading to the outer rim. Slavers have been raiding our colonies and carrying off our people. The Lightbearer flies with us. I would that it were you by my side. For now, I must get some sleep. It will not do for me to doze in the midst of battle."

Sylva smiled to herself. The thought of going into battle by Ghon's side was stimulating.  _Oh, yes._ She was more than ready to join her mighty warrior in battle and in other things. Even now her mother made preparations for their wedding.

J'hler, her mother. She recalled the first message she had received from her mother since her arrival on Trill. J'hler's strikingly handsome face had appeared on the screen. Sylva Dax had touched the screen, regret and love filling her as she'd beheld the beloved face of Dax's wife and Sylva's mother, the strain of the last few months evident. Sylva had been unable to put the memories of Jadzia and Sevren in proper perspective and had avoided contacting her mother and Worf, her great-grandfather, during her months' long pursuit of G'kirk. She would make things right between them when she returned.

"Greetings, daughter," her mother's image had said. "My father tells us he visited you last week. He tells us that you are doing well with your father's family." She'd paused. "Sevren would be pleased." Another pause. "The counselors told him that you are making great progress." Pause again. "Ghon came to see us when he returned. Grandfather and I had a very long talk with him." Her mother had smiled then. "I am very pleased, daughter. Hurry back to us."

That had been months ago. It was time to go home. Time to forge a new life with the legacy her father had bequeathed her. Her family - her Trill family - planned to journey to the Empire for her wedding with her grandfather, Ambassador Alexander Roshenko, and a number of Federation dignitaries.

Dignitaries! That was another thing she had had to adjust to. As a surviving "hero" of the Dominion War and one of the initial explorers of the Gamma quadrant, Dax was looked upon as a living legend. Fortunately, Sylva was a member of the exalted house of Martok, and had not always been able to escape the never-ending official functions diplomats and politicians were obligated to attend, often draggng their families with them for show. She could handle herself at the dinner table as ably as she handled a batleth or disruptor on the battlefield though her warrior heart chafed to escape. She would take pains to ensure that whatever offspring she and Ghon had would not be so put upon.

It had taken several days for Ghon's message to reach her. It was possible that Ghon and her ship, the Lightbearer, were enroute to Trill.

She had planned to open Ghon's message last but her mother's mention of him made Sylva impatient. She double-clicked and Ghon appeared on screen.

Still smiling, she opened Maruk's message, noting that it was dated several days after Ghon's last message.

Not bothering to close Maruk's message, Sylva rushed from her room. The family was still gathered in the common room, her two uncles and their families just preparing to depart for their own homes.

"I must call home immediately. Uncle Jovren, can you arrange it for me?" she asked the moment she entered the room.

Sylva's grandmother, for whom she was named, answered before her son could open his mouth. "Of course he can," she assured her. "What has happened?"

"Ghon was seriously injured rescuing children from slavers. He may not survive."

With the concern of the whole family focused on her, Sylva struggled to maintain her fragile composure. Expressions of sympathy and support washed over her. Hands clasped hers and arms pulled her into warm, comforting hugs. By Kahless! Something was wrong with her eyes. They stung. A hand persisted in rubbing and patting her back. Her grandmother.

"Sylva," Jovren called from his father's study. "The telecom operator is establishing a direct link to Qo'noS."

Alone in her grandfather's study, Sylva waited impatiently for the connection to be completed. She paced the length of the study until a holographic portrait captured her attention. It was her parents' wedding picture. A wistful smile stole across her face as she remembered the day.

_Sevren Dax, dressed in his Starfleet dress uniform, nearly forgot to breathe as his bride took her place beside him in her crimson finery. Jules stood beside him. Just beyond J'hler, her parents, Ambassador Alexander Rozhenko and his wife, stood with her grandfather, Governor Worf. Starfleet brass stood with Klingon dignitaries, most notably the new chancellor of the Klingon Empire, Chadeech of the House of Montroq. Sevren saw only his bride._

"Nuq'neh?"

Sylva spun and rushed to the desk monitor. The face on the screen was not her great-grandfather's.

"Mother," Sylva said in surprise, unable to stop herself from touching the screen. "I expected Great-grandfather."

J'hler immediately recognized her daughter's agitation. "He has gone to the medical center. The Vengeance arrived with Ghon a few hours ago. He has been in surgery for the last couple of hours."

"Thank you," Sylva said. There was so much more that she could have said, needed to say, but it would have to wait for a better time.

"What will you do?" her mother asked.

"I am coming home. Now."

J'hler visibly relaxed. "Good. Your great-grandfather will send a ship for you."

"Do we have any available ships in the Alpha quadrant? If not, I will take the first ship available to Starbase 24. I can be picked up from there."

"I will contact Grandfather's aide and have him locate the closest available ship to the base," J'hler said, pleased to be able to offer her daughter any assistance she could. "We will contact you with the information within the hour."

"Thank you, mother," Sylva replied. Before signing off, she added, "I have missed you."

J'hler touched the screen. "I know," she said with a mother's understanding.

* * *

The room was not large, just enough space for the high-tech workstation that faced a wall of monitors tuned into the happenings of the Alpha and Beta quadrants. A wealth of information passed through this network of intelligence gathering devices faster than most humanoid eyes could follow. Filters netted data with specific keywords and flagged them for attention.

Zeranna, a humanoid female of a species not native to the Alpha quadrant, watched her gang of mercenaries unwind after a very successful job. Once again, she'd worked out a lucrative and challenging deal for them. Through her leadership, the Terrorcons had amassed a small fortune within a relatively short time. Each Terrorcon bore her mark upon their necks: a bite mark made by her surprisingly long canines. With her bite, the alluring beauty bound each one to her with a toxin the females of her species produced in their saliva. She had done very well for herself since awakening in the Alpha quadrant.

Three years ago a private salvage crew found a derelict ship drifting perilously close to the Badlands near Bajoran space, its crew long dead and turned to dust. Searching the ship for anything of value, they discovered a stasis chamber in the center of a large room in the innermost part of the ship. Most of the consoles and machinery still functioned thanks to redundant maintenance and backup systems.

The stasis chamber remained operational also. Closer inspection revealed that the chamber's occupant had also survived the journey. Before they could decide the best way to proceed, the decision was taken out of their hands. Alarms went off in the room and lights on the stasis chamber began flashing in a repeated pattern. No longer considering the possible dangers locked within the chamber, the three friends worked frantically to rescue its occupant.

Zeranna smiled when she recalled the shock on the faces of her rescuers when they finally opened the lid of the stasis chamber and found her struggling against her bonds. The air pump that should have pumped fresh air into the chamber as soon as she was revived had failed. She had been encased from head to toe in a sensor net that monitored her vital signs. Carefully, the team cut the writhing figure from the net and wrapped her in a utility blanket before transferring her to their ship. By the time the ship had reached their base, all three were under her spell. They were the first of her gang. Still smiling, she returned to the heart of Zeranna's Lair: the control room.

* * *

She would soon be his. Nothing could have delighted him more. Well, not entirely true. He would have preferred to be the one to get her, to see her face when she realized that he had actually come for her personally and intended to draw out their time together for as long as she lasted. Alas, another would have that pleasure. He should have ordered the moment recorded. He sighed inwardly at the missed opportunity. It was too late. The team he had dispatched would be maintaining strict radio silence at this point in their mission. Knowing full well how he dealt with failure, his handpicked raiders would do nothing to jeopardize their objectives.

G'kirk returned his attention to the meeting progressing around him. Gronk was still whining about the losses he'd suffered because of the Klingons just as the others had. And, of course, all the blame was laid at G'kirk's feet. He regarded his so-called peers with contempt. They sounded more like Ferengi than the marauders they were purported to be. Finally, Gronk ceased his noise and accepted a flagon of Romulan ale from one of the scanitly-clad slave girls provided for their service by Malon, their host.

Malon sat up on his couch drawing every eye to him. He entered a few commands into the control panel that was built into the arm of the couch.

"I think we've heard enough," he growled. "You've all suffered losses recently at the hands of the Klingons. I certainly don't dispute the fact that G'kirk bears the responsibility for stirring them up." He looked around at all the expectant faces. To his credit, G'kirk remained expressionless, giving nothing away. "However, the responsibility for protecting your assets were your own. Prosperity and easy prey have made you all soft. Perhaps hunger will restore your edge."

Shock, disbelief, then anger appeared on the more expressive faces. Gronk merely looked resigned. G'kirk continued to watch Malon, not allowing the feeling of relief to take hold. Malon was always full of surprises.

"Now, as far as the Klingons go," he resumed. "It appears the absence of the female has cooled their ardor somewhat. Their top generals are willing to go back to the way things were before the Lightbearer incident provided we deliver into their hands 500 bars of gold pressed latinum."

Relief surged through G'kirk. For a moment he'd expected Malon to say they had demanded that he be delivered to them as Sylva Dax had so often demanded.

Gronk spoke up, "Five hundred bars is outrageous! We've lost enough with this foolishness. Nothing more will I give."

The other crimelords nodded their agreement with Gronk's words. Malon pressed a button on his control panel and a three-dimensional star chart appeared in the midst of the gathering.

"I have convinced the Klingons to take this property instead." A few more taps on his control panel caused the 3D map to shift focus then zoom in on a planetoid in a sector just within the Beta quadrant."

G'kirk could barely breathe. Rage coursed through him. It was all he could do to continue to sit upon his cushion when he desperately wanted to wrap his hands around Malon's neck. How had he pinpointed the one item that G'kirk had meticulously made insignificant in all reports.

"G'kirk, you owe me. They wanted you, but I convinced them that taking that ball of dirt from you would bring you close to ruin."

G'kirk barked with laughter at the irony.

* * *

"Remove her," G'kirk ordered, turning his back on the prone female body, shredded pieces of a Klingon uniform still clinging to her limbs.

Tar'vod swallowed hard as he passed G'kirk's guards who were busy carrying out the results of their master's tantrum. He doubted that G'kirk had vented enough of his anger to make him safe to approach. Of all the properties for Malon to have given to the Klingons. Perhaps Malon was shrewder than G'kirk thought. That little planet was rich in mineral resources, including trilithium. Much of G'kirk's assets had been sunk into preparing it for mining.

"My lord," Tar'vod started, alerting G'kirk to his presence.

"Did I send for you?" G'kirk demanded.

"No, sir!" Tar'vod responded.

"Then why are you here?"

"We just received the strike team's signal," Tar'vod reported.

"And?"

* * *

Captain Boris Yelen of the passenger transport, The Kismet, turned from the huddle of frightened passengers to face the fierce Klingon warrior glowering at him and knew that she was their only hope.

His ship had gone to yellow alert the moment that the unidentified craft was detected on an intercept course. An attempt to hail the vessel revealed the distressing fact that communications was being jammed. Trying to outrun it was proving futile as it ate into their swifly dwindling lead. Though The Kismet's scanners had shown that they were well within the ship's weapon's range, the only thing their pursuer's had fired at them was a strange missile that burst against The Kismet's shields. Engineering's announcement that the shields were dissolving at the point of impact confirmed Yelen's fears. They were under attack by Orion pirates!

The Kismet sported two forward phasers that had served well in discouraging those looking for easy prey. Yelen had no illusions about their chances in a fire fight. The best he could hope for was to slow the pirates down long enough for his passengers to escape in the old runabout he used as a shuttle when transporters were not an option.

"You would ask me to run while others fight?" Sylva Dax asked in outrage. "You know nothing of Klingons!"

To Be Continued

 


End file.
